


Secrets

by coffeestainanalyst



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Pain, Painful Sex, Post CA:TWS, Violence, and Steve has absolutely no sense of self preservation, cue, in which what's left of the Winter Soldier does not understand kindness, just in case, oh and there are one or two slurs, the worst is that those superhuman disasters actually love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeestainanalyst/pseuds/coffeestainanalyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt:<br/>The first time Steve and Bucky try to have sex after Bucky gets back, Steve bottoms, obviously. And he thinks it's going to be fine and Bucky remembers a lot of things now and he gives every impression of wanting this and they did plenty of sleeping together in the forties.</p>
<p>But while Bucky vaguely remembers having sex with Steve, he's getting all the details from Hydra - where he never, ever topped. So he knows that the giving partner does things like hair-pulling and ass-slapping and ignoring the receiving partner's noises of pain. But he doesn't remember things Hydra never did to him, like using lubricant.</p>
<p>+10 if Steve is so reluctant to hurt Bucky that he puts up with it<br/>+100 if Bucky asks Steve after if he did it right</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Секреты](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11998080) by [fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017/pseuds/fandom_EvanstanStarbucks_2017)



> Doing some housekeeping and finally putting some of my kinkmeme fills up on AO3. Many, many thanks to [RegularPolyhedra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RegularPolyhedra) for the beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> Now, have you read the warnings? Go read the warnings. Okay. Also that first bonus? That might have turned into something more twisted.

In a too soft double bed in DC, there lies a man. He has learned that he is a human being, that he has a name – James Buchanan Barnes – and that in a time long past he let people close enough that they gave him yet another name, a name for friends, and that one is Bucky. 

After being Bucky, after being human, he has been many other things and he has been called many names. There is much that he's forgotten. "There's nothing you can't relearn," says Steve, just as Steve says that he's not the man's handler and not his commander and not somebody who will ever hurt him. He says he's the man's friend, and that is why he calls him Bucky and it makes sense. The man remembers Steve from that time long ago. No details, but he remembers a mission, _the_ mission. The one that was so important it even cancelled out the other one, the one to kill him. It's knowledge that goes beyond HYDRA, years and years back. _Steve, keep Steve…_ it's been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. Keep Steve happy? Entertained? Satisfied? No, no, no.

Steve lies beside him in that white-sheeted double bed in DC, most nights and thus also the night the man relearns what to do when the pressure between his legs becomes too maddening to ignore. Guided by nothing but instinct he prods and tugs at the swollen flesh there and it feels right, and it feels very good, and he remembers being told he was allowed to feel good now. 

Steve's reading in the yellow lamp light, and at first he ignores the man beside him, but as the low sounds of pleasure become more and more intense, he closes his book. "D'you want some privacy?" he asks, and his voice has a very soft, fond edge to it. The man does not understand the concept of privacy, and he does not want to stop feeling pleasure to learn about it. He is allowed not wanting now, too. 

"No," he says, voice shuddering. He keeps his mouth parted to allow his hitched breaths in and out unhindered. 

"Okay."

There's a moment of silence and then, beside him, the bedside lamp is turned off. 

"You mind if I join in?" Steve asks, and the man mumbles "Sure, sure," because the syllables fit in between his labored breaths and what he actually means is _Do whatever you want, just let me have this._

He hears Steve lie back, hears the blanket rustle, a low exhale not unlike his own, and from the corner of his eyes the man sees movement. Steve's hands wander between his own thighs, and he mimics the man's rhythm. (And this is familiar, it's so familiar, but it's just that inch out of reach.) 

As the man half sees, half listens to Steve touching himself, he realizes that yes, yes, he does want this. Even though their bodies do not meet at all, Steve's low sighs send tingling jolts of pleasure through the man as tangible as the movement of his own hand.

When Steve suddenly moans out loud, "Bucky, Bucky _yes_ ," the man's pleasure abruptly finds its peak. He's surprised by its suddenness and overwhelmed by its intensity, gasping and writhing uncontrollably while the waves of his orgasm wash over him. A hand finds his (not the one that's still frantically working his cock, the other; the one that almost rips the sheet apart). Steve gives it a tight squeeze before intertwining their fingers. 

When the man's breath reaches something akin to normal levels again, there's another short increase of pressure where their hands connect. Steve rolls close and rests his head on the man's shoulder. "Christ, Bucky, I missed this," he whispers against the man's damp neck. The man likes having Steve close. Steve says _then_ – before – they were together, they were in love. The man thinks that might be why. He writes _Love_ on his list of things to relearn.

_Keep Steve, keep Steve…_ no, his head remains empty.

-

To himself, the man calls it pleasure training, and they start doing it regularly. Steve never initiates, but he follows along almost every time, and when he does, the man's arousal is keener and comes more easily. The man who has a name and who is more than a machine relearns pleasure, and it is very useful knowledge.

While they're training, he and Steve lie next to each other, only connected at their fingers, though there is the night when their joined hands come to rest on Steve's thigh instead of between them, and there is the night Bucky comes first and Steve slicks his hand with Bucky's come for his own last few strokes. That's the night the man gets hard again even though he just had his release.

Steve's eyes are blown wide, he's still panting from his own orgasm and he lies very close. "Bucky," he gasps, "Bucky, do you wanna come inside me?"

A memory stirs – another apartment, another Steve but yet the same, an alleyway a forest a tent a hotel room in a foreign country. Doors locked, voices hushed, one ear always mindful of approaching footsteps – a secret. Ah. 

He does not remember any more than this, but he understands the concept very well. He has been the secret of both scientists and field agents alike, and he has been a soldier and as such he's ready to protect his secrets with his life. (And he has done so, even from Steve, even when he said Bucky could tell him anything. Even when he said it was important. And as the interrogations didn't stop, he retreated to repeating his name and rank. Steve has not asked again since.)

He eyes the man beside him. Why would Steve not want it the other way around? He knits his brow. "Are you sure?"

This must be a test. Failure has horrible consequences and the man is ready to do whatever necessary to avoid them. They must deem it a good time for a test, hope to catch him off guard. Think with the state he's in, he might not expect it. (He always expects it.)

Steve nibbles on his earlobe. "Want you to. Been – _mmh_ – been dreaming about it. What'cha think?"

As far as he knows, the man has never assumed this position of the procedure before, but he's been in the other one often enough to know what to do. He will not fail.

He's on his knees in an instant, almost making Steve lose balance. "Up!" He orders and slaps Steve's hip to add weight to his command. Steve flips over and the man positions him on all fours. "Shoulders down, head in your hands. Legs apart."

The muffled sound Steve makes is almost a chuckle, and he spreads his legs bravely. The man's pulse speeds up. He's almost sure laughter is inappropriate and prohibited, but he has no experience in dealing with transgressions like this. 

He might get them both punished. (Keep Steve… _no_. He has to concentrate at all costs.) All he can do is hope that the rest of the procedure will wipe that smile off Steve's face.

At least adrenaline has kept him hard, even though the procedure itself is not arousing like the pleasure training is.

He remembers that for connecting bodies this way the receptive part has to be widened first. As he shoves two fingers in, Steve gasps harshly and his hand reaches back to the man's wrist, trying to still him. " _Ah_ , Bucky – you gotta –" He shuts up as the man barks out the order, twisting Steve's arm behind his back so hard it makes a cracking noise.

Did he speak English? For a moment he's unsure, and Steve stills so abruptly that he's afraid he might not, might have made a mistake. He repeats himself, this time focusing on using the right language. " _Silence!_ " 

Steve obviously does not know the procedure, or he pretends not to as part of the test. "Sounds yes, words no," the man says. "Understood?"

For a second he thinks Steve's going to try throwing him off, is sure he sees the muscles in Steve's back contract, preparing for a countermove. But no, he's mistaken; a moment passes, then Steve nods sharply. He tilts his head to look back, jaw set and face determined.

It makes the man feel wrong and weak, unable to perform his task. "No," he echoes, "No. You don't look unless I tell you to, or we're gonna have an accident in maintenance next time and burn your eyes out, understood?" A horrified expression flares up on Steve's face and he turns away as he is told. Good.

The man begins pumping his fingers in and out of Steve's tense body, now and then using spit to reduce friction. He does not think it's absolutely necessary to cause bleeding and even though it's a risk, he decides to take it. Steve grits his teeth as the man pushes in a third finger, but he stays true to his word and does not try to speak again, only hisses into his fist as the man starts bending and scissoring his fingers to speed up the process. This is common practice and the man is glad, because even though he has already released Steve's arm in favor of tugging at his own cock, the stiffness there is flagging. 

If he remembers correctly – he really hopes he does – the loosening is finished as soon as objects one level smaller than the final penetrating item could be inserted. ( _Don't want it slipping in too easily, do we?_ ) Yes, he remembers. He knows what to do, he assures himself.

The man is not a machine but he aims to function just as accurately, and when the time comes, he grips Steve's hips hard and shoves inside to the hilt in one harsh motion. He holds completely still but for parting his lips as Steve's body convulses around him. The sound Steve makes is only partly stifled by the pillow and by the scraping noise of his hands as they roam over the sheets for leverage. His breath comes in erratic hitches, involuntarily impaling his body further on the man's cock.

For the first time since the whole ordeal began, the man's arousal sparks again. Steve's insides are hot and soft but tight at the same time, and much better than his own hand. 

The man's cock is still slightly slick from his earlier release, and when he tentatively starts rocking his hips, it slides in and out deliciously. Without intending to, an obscene moan passes his lips and he’s startled by his own voice. Steve is very tense and not wet enough, but the man thinks maybe he can still go through with it. Get it over with fast. 

He digs his fingers in Steve's flanks and starts pounding in earnest, deep and hard and fast. He feels sweat trickling down his skin, and Steve has to resort to making the wordless noises he is allowed. 

The man almost wishes he wouldn't remember, or that it wasn't part of the procedure, but eventually he slows down and reaches down between Steve's legs, checking for signs of anything shameful. Thank God, Steve's completely limp. The man is relieved, even though he knew from the start Steve was no greedy whore, no sick faggot, but he's still glad he doesn't have to call him out on it. (The man is aware that he's not good at the vocal parts of the procedure. He's already skipped much of it, telling himself it wasn't mandatory.) 

He returns to gripping Steve's hips and realizes that if he changes the angle just a bit he can sink in even deeper, resulting in a desperate grunt from Steve. 

That way, the man resumes his rhythm and focuses on the pressure that's building at the base of his spine with every deep thrust. He groans because he's allowed to, because he's very close and because he feels Steve's muscles contract around him, and he's – he's actually going to spill his seed into – _ahh_. Even though he's supposed to be a man, the sound he makes as he comes is a cry and it does not sound human at all. 

Steve does; he tries to choke down whimpers, and the man knows why. He knows very well what thick bursts of come flooding abused insides feel like. He makes sure he stays all the way in as long as he releases, and applies pressure between Steve's shoulder blades to achieve a steeper angle, making sure it trickles in as deep as possible. 

He shudders and presses his chest against Steve's sweaty back. "Ssh... almost done," he whispers and immediately worries that he's overstepping the line, talking like that before the procedure is over. Guiltily, he presses his hand against Steve's abdomen, (and Steve does nothing but flinch ever so slightly), and starts to massage it in circular motions. "Yes, that's good. Wanna spread it, don't we?"

Steve breathes heavily, muscles taut as a wire and the pressure starts to hurt the man. Pain is no reason the abort a task though, and it's almost done anyway. Three more thorough rubs and he pulls out just as vigorously as he'd entered, drawing a startled gasp from Steve at the suddenness of it. 

_It's over; it's finished… isn't it?_ The man quickly scans the room; yes, no, of course there's nobody here to take his place, and he is beyond relieved. He knows it only ever gets worse.

Steve still hasn't moved. The man touches his flank carefully. "I'm done with you," he murmurs to signal Steve that he's now allowed to sit up, but he knows his intonation is wrong.

Nothing.

Panic manifests in the man's stomach. It's not over because… he's forgotten something? In that case, _he_ deserves it, but will Steve be punished for his failure, too? The man's heartbeat speeds up, he's frantically going through all the reference he has – when suddenly he registers movement. Very slowly, Steve does straighten up. The man releases a breath he didn't knew he was holding.

Steve does not turn to look at him, and that kind of treatment feels familiar, feels like the promise of something very, very painful. 

Right.

The man tries to be more of a machine and steels himself. Maybe he has not passed the test. Maybe they will take away the food again, or worse; light and sound. Or maybe he has to undergo the other side of the treatment now until he learns better. Maybe he'll be returned to HYDRA for training, maybe with the whole combat team… twice, like when they were snowed in in that safe house in the middle of nowhere.

When Steve does turn around, the man is ready for anything. 

Steve looks wild; his hair is plastered to his forehead and there is blood smeared around his lower lip. If anybody does not deserve to be hurt, ever, it's Steve, and yet that is what the man has done. The blood on his face is _wrongwrongwrong_ , but he does not dare reach out to wipe it away. 

"I know it hurts," he rasps, "But you must believe me, it's nothing compared to what happens if we resist. You know that, right?"

Steve catches his gaze and quickly drags the back of his hand over his lips, removing most of the blood.

"I know it now," he says. "That's… a start. Knowing what we're up against." His features are set to an odd calmness and the man shivers.

He feels very lost and also very sticky and dirty. He understands why they sometimes grabbed his hair and made him lick them clean, but he has already decided things that didn't happen every time were not mandatory and he's not doing them to Steve. 

He only raises his eyes again when he feels a firm hand on his right arm. "My turn?" he asks.

Steve's fingers dig in deeper. "No," he says, "God, _no_. Bucky – they had no right to do that to you, okay? They will never, ever hurt you again. HYDRA cannot reach you here, do you understand? Bucky?"

What the man understands is that Steve calls him Bucky because they are friends, and because Steve once loved him. At the same time he feels alarm spreading inside his chest like hands pushing him underwater. It strikes him that Steve _knows_ now, knows about his secrets. He hasn't told, wouldn't tell, and yet. What has he done, what has Steve done? Has he been tricked?

The hand on his right shoulder finds an equivalent on the other side, gently squeezing, and Steve looks at him, sees through him, and how dare he look when the man is cracked so open?

"Get away from me," the man shouts, shoving Steve back. "Somebody,“ he breathes. "Somebody go and clean him up, he's disgusting! And you – what's your problem? No need to thank me, I know how you were itching for it! Get out! Out, out, _out_ –"

To mirror the man's outrage, Steve should glare at him – in anger, hatred even, but his expression matches the one he wore when the man first asked if he was allowed to eat.

Pain is written all over his face and for a moment, as Steve's knuckles creak from how tightly he's clenching his fists, the man thinks maybe some violent burst of emotion is clawing its way out of him after all. It passes, though.

"Shh," Steve says, "it's alright, I'm going. Gonna have a shower and then I'm coming back with some water and a washcloth for you." Steve nods, though mostly to himself, and the man does not let him out of sight as Steve climbs off the bed. His movement seems strained but carefully controlled, even though it must hurt. He only flinches once, and the man sees a gush of semen dripping down Steve's thighs as he walks out of the room. Seems at some point, the man has made him bleed after all.

Once he is alone, the man curls up on the bed. That's good, right? Nobody can accuse him of not trying his very hardest. Yet Steve – he says HYDRA can't get to him anymore, but they are everywhere and they had him fooled before. He groans and holds his aching head. 

In the bathroom, the shower starts running. The man tries to calm down and listens to the heavy spray of water and Steve's movements. It's a monotone sound and could be soothing, but – no. _No, what's that, no_. He must be mistaken, surely… but he isn't. Between the drizzling water he hears other noises, harsh sobs barely muffled by a fist or a forearm. He tells himself he must be wrong, Steve doesn’t cry (doesn’t cry for himself), Steve isn’t stupid, he wouldn’t –

The man curls up tighter, _no no no_. Doesn't Steve know what the punishment is for crying? 

Calm down, he whispers to himself, repeating Steve's words. They cannot reach us here; they cannot hurt us – but _what if_? Or what if in their absence, he's required to uphold order and once they return, they'll pass judgement? 

No. He decides he won't hurt Steve any further, no matter what that means for himself. He's gotta protect Steve, gotta keep Steve – _safe_ , yes, he remembers now, that's it; that's the mission. _Keep Steve safe_. He has done that tonight, right? Kept their wrath from them. He has to shield Steve… and he will, whatever the cost.

Deliberately, his hands inch towards his ears, covering them while he makes himself as small as possible. He hasn't heard a thing – for all he knows, Steve is taking a shower, nothing more. 

He'll never tell. It's a secret.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](http://coffeestainanalyst.tumblr.com).


End file.
